


command me to be well

by ivyalexandrias



Series: slenderverse fics [1]
Category: DarkHarvest00
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Amnesia, Brainwashing, Cults, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Past Torture, The Order (DarkHarvest00), alex is brainwashed, does alex regain his memories? who knows! not me!!, update: i'm working on a sequel bc im a hoe 4 these boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:21:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24509086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivyalexandrias/pseuds/ivyalexandrias
Summary: The girl (Heatherheatherheather her name is Heather how does he know that but Alex knows it and her name is Heather) ties his wrists as he struggles, and Chris(chrischrischris) yanks his mask off. The two fall still, but he doesn’t stop writhing, loosing another feral snarl as Chris backs away, eyes wide.“Alex, no… you’re not… it can’t be.” He attempts to yank his wrists out of their restraints, but only succeeds in making them tighter. Unbidden, the word ‘Harbinger’ spills from his lips, dripping with disdain and anger, but it feels wrong, and he can’t place why.
Relationships: Chris/Alex, Chris/Alex (DarkHarvest00)
Series: slenderverse fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1783279
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	command me to be well

Alex hovers behind a tree, watching the man trudge through the woods, gripping a mask tightly in his hand. The girl with him has an identical mask pulled half over her face, and she glances around furtively, footsteps light. He slips from tree to tree, following behind them. They’re familiar, but he can’t place how he knows them.  
He can’t place a lot of things, these days. His mind is full of holes, he’s gotten used to the feeling. The test site is long abandoned, but it’s his job to watch it, and make sure the 6th Enclave doesn’t return. So that’s what he does. Every day, he watches, and returns at night to his Arch-Vassal, reporting silence, again. He receives a meal, and a few hours of sleep, before returning. It’s nice, having a routine. He thinks to himself that he should probably report them. Maybe he’ll get something extra, as a treat. He watches them leave, and for the first time, his mask feels too tight, too hot, and he’s tempted to pull it off.

  
He doesn’t tell his Arch-Vassal about them. There’s something in him that says not to, telling him that they’re friends, and he listens. No one seems to see through his lie, so it’s fine. He sleeps, and he wakes, and he pulls his mask on over his face, and he goes back to the test site. He watches.

  
-

  
Alex has a new job. Follow the man, and his friend. It’s odd, not returning to the test site anymore. They seem to stay in the same area, all he has to do is follow behind them, and report their activities to his superior. It’s all going well, until he follows them down a stairwell, and the girl jumps him. Her knife sinks into his chest one, twice, three times, four times, and he gasps, looking over to the man’s face. His eyes are wide, but determined. As the two of them hurry away, a name floats into Alex’s subconscious. Chris. He likes the name Chris. He wonders where it came from. His vision fades to black.

  
He wakes up on a hospital bed, with an IV in his arm. He is informed that he’s lucky he’s alive. If he fails again, he will be terminated. He understands, and vows to do better. Still, he can’t stop thinking about Chris. He’s decided that’s the man’s name. Alex can’t shake the feeling that he knows him, somehow. He doesn’t bring it up with anyone. He has a feeling that it would only lead to more… reconditioning. He doesn’t like reconditioning. The thought of it makes the scars littering his skin ache, and he pushes it away. Best not to linger on that.

  
-

  
The next time Alex sees them, they’re in the woods, looking for something, or someone. They have rope, and knives. He doesn’t see the trap until it’s too late. They round a corner in an old building, falling out of sight. He creeps behind them, turning after them, only to be tackled to the ground. The motion tugs on the stitches in his chest, and a snarl escapes him. It’s a wild feral sound, and it echoes off the walls of the room as he thrashes, attempting to dislodge them.

  
The girl (Heatherheatherheather her name is Heather how does he know that but Alex knows it and her name is Heather) ties his wrists as he struggles, and Chris(chrischrischris) yanks his mask off. The two fall still, but he doesn’t stop writhing, loosing another feral snarl as Chris backs away, eyes wide.

  
“Alex, no… you’re not… it can’t be.” He attempts to yank his wrists out of their restraints, but only succeeds in making them tighter. Unbidden, the word ‘Harbinger’ spills from his lips, dripping with disdain and anger, but it feels wrong, and he can’t place why. Heather gasps, and her hand flies up to cover her mouth.

  
“No, no. It’s not him. That can’t be him, he wouldn’t…” Chris interrupts, voice angry.

  
“Who could it be, Heather? That’s his face, his voice. That’s him!” His head jerks towards the brunette, who digs something out of his pocket as he speaks. He has a rag, and a small bottle, and Alex starts thrashing with renewed vigor. Chloroform. Chloroform means being knocked out, being knocked out means reconditioning, reconditioning means pain pain pain painpainpainpainpainPAINPAINPAIN-

  
He doesn’t realize how hard he’s flailing until his head cracks against the concrete, and darkness rushes up to obscure his vision.

When he opens his eyes again, his mask is still missing, and cool air is blowing over his face. A migraine pounds in the back of his skull, made worse by the yellowish light shining in his eyes. Chris is pacing in front of him, gesturing wildly as he mumbles to himself. Alex's mouth feels like it’s stuffed with cotton balls, lips chapped and dry. He groans softly, and Chris spins to face him.

  
“Oho, look who’s awake.” He stalks over, grabbing a fistful of Alex’s hair, yanking his head back, drawing a soft noise of pain from him. Heather(heatherheatherheather) is nowhere to be seen, Chris and him are alone in the room.

  
“So, mind telling me what the fuck brought you to the decision to join them? Because I’ve spent the last year thinking you were dead, and suddenly you show up, and you’re part of the fucking cult that’s been tormenting us? The fuck’s with that, huh?” Alex tilts his head.

  
Join them? Tormenting us? Had he… been friends with this man? Was The Order an enemy? No. They saved him. The Order was good. The Order knew what was best for him.  
He doesn’t respond, too busy trying to sort through the thoughts rushing through his head. Fleeting memories settle into holes in his brain, but there’s still too much empty space, he can’t make heads or tails of any of them. Chris scoffs, pushing his head away, causing another wave of pain to crash over his senses, and he whines softly.  
He isn’t supposed to speak. If he speaks to anyone but his Arch-Vassal, he’s punished. He can sign, though, that’s allowed. It’s how he communicates with other members of The Order, on the rare occasion one of them talks to him. Alex fumbles with the knife in his sleeve for a moment, before it tumbles into his hand. He cuts the rope tying his hands together, and considers replacing the knife in his sheath, but hesitates.

  
Chris has turned away from him, shoulders hunched, and he clears his throat. Chris turns, before jolting back. Alex holds the knife out in his outstretched hand. The shorter man hesitantly takes it from him, setting it on the nightstand, out of Alex’s reach, eyeing him cautiously. Alex taps his lips, shaking his head.  
“You… can’t speak?” Alex makes a so-so gesture, thinking for a moment. He taps his lips again, shaking his head, then lightly punches his palm, like he’s threatening to hurt someone.

  
“…You weren’t allowed to speak?” Chris looks incredulous, and Alex nods. He fiddles with his shirt sleeve for a moment, before miming pulling a mask down over his face, giving Chris a pleading look. The shorter man shakes his head, eyes soft.

  
“I left back in the building. You don’t need it, though.” Alex huffs out a breath through his nose, another small whine escaping his throat. The two continue like that for a while, Chris asking or answering questions, Alex talking with gestures, and small, wordless noises. Heather returns a few hours after Alex wakes up, and does a double take upon entering the hotel room. At one point, Alex had moved to the bed, and was sitting cross-legged in front of Chris. He turns to face her, and offers a hesitant smile.  
Heather sets the bag of take out down on the bed, coming to cautiously sit down next to it, facing him. “Hey Alex. How… how’s your head?” He makes an ‘eh’ gesture with a hand, tapping lightly on his skull with a finger, before making a soft noise. Chris translates.

  
“It’s not hurting as bad as it was.” Heather frowns at him, raising an eyebrow. “He can’t talk?” Chris shakes his head. “I think he was like… conditioned not to talk. The way he acts, it’s almost feral. He seems to be missing memories, and he won’t communicate other than gestures, and more… animalistic noises. Almost like… like a dog. I don’t know what they did to him, but he gets defensive when I ask, so I’m avoiding it for now.” Heather blinks for a moment, before sighing, and digging through the bag of takeout. Alex shakes his head when she offers him some food, and she frowns.

  
“You need to eat, Alex.” He shakes his head again, pushing it towards Chris and her. He ate last, that was how it worked. He wasn't important. He got the scraps of food left over. Chris murmurs something to her, and her expression shifts. Only when the two had eaten, and assured him it was okay, did he eat the food. Even then, he only ate as much as he was usually allowed, before pushing it away again. Chris frowns at him, but doesn't insist.

  
The night winds down quietly after that. Heather returns to her room, which is connected to theirs. Alex lodges himself in a chair, watching Chris as he putters around. The shorter man watches him for a second, before sighing, lifting the covers, and patting the bed.

  
"Alex, c'mere. You can't just sleep sitting upright on a chair." Alex tilts his head, slowly creeping towards him, slipping under the covers. Chris tugs the taller man against him, and Alex stiffens, a startled noise escaping his throat, but Chris doesn't let him go.

  
Alex slowly relaxes, leaning into him. This feels right.

  
He falls asleep like that, tucked into Chris' arms, and when he wakes up, he feels a little bit more like himself.

**Author's Note:**

> hey! this is my first fic in this fandom lmao.  
> chrislex doesn't get enough appreciation imo. honestly, dh00 in general is underrated. go watch it rn, fools. reccomend it to your friends. and ur family. make everyone you know watch it.  
> (edit 6/4/2020; fixed the paragraph blocking, oops)


End file.
